Stranger than Fiction
by WolfWinks
Summary: Euphemia didn't realise how her life was going to change when she treated a patient who calls her Grandmother. Timetravel!AU


**Warnings** : Character deaths **  
Notes:** Written for Hogwarts Lineage Studied: Write about one of the following early members of the Potter family. Euphemia and Fleamont Potter

* * *

Healer Euphemia Potter entered the room with the unidentified male without an inch of hesitation. The teenager, who appeared in the Ministry only an hour ago covered in wounds, was a mystery, but he was still a patient and she was going to treat him one.

Euphemia wished she knew his name, but apparently, he hadn't said a word since arriving at St Mungo's.

"Hello," she said as entered, seeing the poor child on the bed. He was covered in black and blue bruising, had a least one broken bone in his arm and had some large gashes on one side of his body. It was the pulsating yellow wound over his abdomen that really worried her, though. She'd never seen anything like it.

Turning around, Euphemia rummaged through a drawer as she spoke, giving him some semblance of privacy for a moment. "I'm Healer Potter."

Euphemia turned around and flinched back when she saw the teenager standing at the end of the bed instead of being in it. He was staring at her with dazed but wide eyes.

"Did you say, Potter?" His voice was rough and quiet, but Euphemia managed to hear what he said.

"I did," she said, unsure why her name would instigate such a reaction from him.

"I think you're my Grandmother," the teen said after a few minutes of silence.

 _Well,_ Euphemia thought. _The day has officially taken a turn for the weird._

* * *

The examination didn't take long. Euphemia was worried the teen would fight her, but after proclaiming that she was his Grandmother, he hadn't said another word. He'd crawled back into bed and turned into the perfect patient. It was unnerving.

Euphemia first scanned the glowing patch on the teen's chest, but it didn't show anything malicious, at least, not anymore. It was dormant but waiting. Almost like a timer. She couldn't figure out how to remove it, so she turned her attention to everything else.

"Do you have a name?" Euphemia asked as she examined his left arm, which was broken in three different places. With a wave of her wand, the bones started stitching themselves back together, but she bound the arm to the teen's chest to prevent its movement as it healed.

"Harry," he whispered.

"It's nice to meet you, Harry." Euphemia contemplated asking him about his earlier comment but decided against the action. It was obvious that the teen needed to see a mind-healer, and Euphemia wasn't experienced in that area.

"They're always telling stories about you and your husband. What's your first name?"

Euphemia glanced at the boy. "Euphemia."

"That's pretty," he murmured.

He didn't stop staring at her. In fact, he hadn't stopped staring at her since she entered. Euphemia wanted to continue to interrogate him about who was telling him these stories, but the question that spilt from her lips was not the one she wanted to ask.

"Stories about what?"

Harry didn't look away from her, and Euphemia had to turn her eyes away and back to her work. Still, she could feel his gaze on her back.

"Your love. Love for everyone around you, which you showed through your profession. Love for your husband that everyone knew was going to love forever, and the love for your son who you'd loved many years before he was even created. Eternal love ran through you, they said."

Euphemia flinched at the mention of a son. "I don't have any children," she said a little too harshly.

The teen didn't seem all that concerned by her tone. "Maybe not yet, but one day you will." Harry fell silent after those words, and Euphemia didn't ask any more questions. It wasn't that she didn't have any because she really did, but the teen was starting to worry her.

"Can I meet your husband?"

Euphemia started at the teen's question. "Why?"

Harry shrugged. "I've never met any grandparents before. What's your husband's first name?"

Euphemia studied the teen, but he only seemed curious. "Fleamont."

Harry let out a smile; the first one she'd seen from him. "Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. I finally know your names."

"Who tells you stories about me?"

"Sirius and Remus, though Sirius is gone now." Grief beyond anything she'd ever seen before consumed the teen's face, and for the first time since she'd started treating him, he looked away from her. "I wanted to follow, but Remus wouldn't let me and then a bright yellow light hit me in the chest and I was suddenly all alone. I'm always alone." The teen started to sob.

Euphemia couldn't stand to let the teen believe he was alone. He was strange, sure and Euphemia was starting to think the child had some serious mind problems, but he was still a child. Fifteen years old. She couldn't let him believe that he was completely alone in the world.

"It's okay," she said, sliding up next to him. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Harry leaned into her. "I won't leave you alone," she said, worried about promising the child such a thing.

"I can't stay here, but I don't know how to get home."

Euphemia sighed. She couldn't promise to help Harry go home because she wasn't even sure where his home was.

"You'll be okay." She could promise him that.

* * *

Euphemia spent almost her whole day with Harry. She'd leave on occasion, but because of the uncertainty of the teen's wounds, he couldn't be left alone for long. Usually, a medi-wizard would monitor the patient, but no one could get anywhere near him to examine him except for Euphemia.

The first time Euphemia had left, she'd been called back only half an hour later to see Harry unconscious on the bed and a medi-wizard bound in ropes on the ground, dazed but conscious. She hadn't allowed anyone else to monitor him after that.

"Healer Potter?" a medi-wizard said as she entered the room, shooting an uncertain glance at the teen on the bed, who was staring at Euphemia again with unguarded fascination.

"Yes?"

"Your husband is in the waiting room. He said you were going out to dinner and he was meant to pick you up."

Euphemia cursed. "I forgot," she said, glancing to Harry uncertainly. She couldn't leave him alone; he was still very unstable, and that yellow light was still pulsating on his chest as strong as ever. She was surprised at the eager look in Harry's eyes, though.

"Can't he come in here?"

The medi-wizard looked surprised, but Euphemia remembered Harry's fascination with her husband earlier that day.

Sighing, Euphemia prepared to disappoint the teen. She couldn't allow her husband into an unfamiliar patient's room and she didn't want to risk Harry hurting Fleamont. "I'm not sure—"

"Please. I promise I won't hurt him and I really want to meet him. Please. Please."

Euphemia could feel her resolve wavering, and when she glanced at the medi-wizard, she only shrugged.

"It's not against the rules if the patient requests it," was all she said.

Euphemia hesitated for anther moment, before nodding. "Please go collect him."

The medi-wizard hurried away.

"Thank you, thank—"

"Harry, listen to me. I don't know where you came from or why you've attached yourself to me and my family, but this can't continue. You can meet my husband, but then you must tell me who your parents are and where you came from. Do you understand me?"

The teen's joy disappeared in a second and his eyes welled up with tears. "I understand, but you're not going to believe me."

Guilt ate away at Euphemia when she realised the effect her words had on the child, but when he said she wouldn't believe him, she almost wanted to roll her eyes. He'd been saying that all day.

"I have a pretty open mind."

Harry snorted and crossed his arms but didn't say anything more, so she fell silent as well and waited for her husband to appear. It only took another minute for a knock to echo around the room.

"Euphemia?" Fleamont questioned as he entered.

Euphemia stood up and wrapped his hand in her own, pulling him forward. "Come in. Harry, this is my husband, Fleamont. Fleamont, honey, this is Harry."

Shooting Euphemia an uncertain look, Fleamont smiled at Harry. "It's nice to meet you."

Harry leaned forward and smiled, glancing between the two in front of him. "It's really nice to meet you as well. You look just like your photograph; you both do."

Fleamont opened his mouth, but Euphemia spoke before he could.

"You've seen a picture of us?" Euphemia's voice was a little sharper than it should have been, but the teen was really starting to scare her.

"Well, kind of. I've seen your faces in a mirror, but only the once. That's why I didn't recognise you straight away, but seeing you together, well, you're hard to forget. You guys are amazing together, and you will be for the rest of your lives."

"I'm sorry, but do I know you?" Fleamont asked, becoming frustrated.

Euphemia squeezed his hand, but he only shot her an incredulous look.

"No," Harry shook his head sadly. "No, you die before I'm born."

Euphemia blinked and Fleamont took a step back.

"What do you mean?" Euphemia said in a soft, concerned voice.

"What is going on?" Fleamont snapped at the same time, glaring.

Harry looked between them before sighing. "You wanted to know where I came from, but it's hard for me to answer without confusing you further.

 _He looks weaker_ , Euphemia thought, worried. _And I'm sure that pulsating is stronger._

"My full name is Harry James Potter. I'm named after my father, James Potter, who is your son and my mother's name is Lily Evans, a muggleborn student who captured my father's heart the moment they met."

Harry cleared his throat, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath before opening them again.

"I don't know why I was sent here or what spell did it, all I know is that I was fighting for my life and my godfather and father's best friend, Sirius Black, died saving my life. When I was distracted, one of the Death Eaters shot a spell in my direction. The next thing I know, I'm being squeezed through a tube too small—that's how I broke my arm—and then I'm alone in the Department of Mysteries feeling like I'd fallen off a cliff."

As Harry had talked, he'd grown paler and paler, while the light on his chest grew stronger and the pulses sped up. Euphemia forced all her questions to the side—a hard thing to do in normal circumstances let alone this one—and brought her healer side forward. Her husband didn't even seem to notice the danger Harry was in.

"How would you? Time travel on that large a scale is impossible. This is some joke; it has to be. I mean, we don't even have a son, and if we did, he wouldn't be friends with a Black. You're not actually believing this, are you Euphemia? Euphemia?"

"Harry, tell me how you're feeling," Euphemia said, ignoring her husband for a moment.

"I'm tired," Harry said, sagging back on the bed and breathing heavy with a furrow between his eyes. "Hurts," he slurred, lifting a hand to rub at his chest.

"No, don't!" Euphemia lunged forward, but Fleamont wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back.

As soon as Harry's hand made contact with the pulsating wound on his chest, he screamed and a brilliant yellow light consumed the room. When the light disappeared, Euphemia looked up only to stare in shock. Harry was gone.

* * *

Euphemia never found out what happened to Harry that day. She'd spent almost a week in a frantic search, only to come up empty-handed. Then, she spent another week grieving. Fleamont couldn't understand her reaction, and if Euphemia was honest, she didn't either.

"It was just some cruel joke. He was acting the whole time. I mean, his story was completely bogus. He just wanted to hurt us."

Euphemia didn't believe that, but she wasn't sure what she _did_ believe. They'd even fought over the issue, though they were never fighting for long. It wasn't until one day in late September when Euphemia had been throwing up for the past two weeks and asked a medi-wizard to cast a diagnostic, that she started to believe Harry's words.

"Congratulations. You're two months pregnant."

When she gave birth to a perfectly healthy boy, she'd convinced Fleamont to call him James.

"It's just a coincidence," he'd said, but there was some doubt in his eyes now. "I mean, it's not like my son would ever be friends with a Black of all people."

When James sent his first letter after leaving for Hogwarts home, Euphemia smiled in triumphant.

 _I've already made some friends! Remus Lupin is a shy boy who likes books a little too much, Peter Pettigrew is a strange one, but interesting, and the other boy is so funny! His name is Sirius Black, though. Please don't be mad._

"This doesn't mean anything," Fleamont said when he read the contents.

"You don't believe that," Euphemia said, but she didn't push the issue. There would be time for that later.

When James came home for Christmas and couldn't stop talking about a girl name Lily Evan's who he loved to tease, Euphemia only had to look at Fleamont to prove her point.

Euphemia wanted to jump for joy when James brought Lily Evans home and introduced her as his girlfriend, and when they finally announced their engagement only a few weeks out of Hogwarts, Fleamont was finally convinced.

"We met our grandson," he said the night of the engagement announcement.

"We met our grandson."

When Euphemia became sick with Dragon Pox, Fleamont knew it was her time to go. When Fleamont also contracted the disease, he wasn't surprised. He held his wife's hand as she died, and held his son's hand while he cried next to his bedside.

"Son," Fleamont croaked, knowing he was quickly losing strength.

James looked up, and Fleamont forced some strength into his arm so he could pat James on the cheek.

"Name your son, Harry."

Fleamont didn't see his son's confusion, because he no longer had the strength to hold his arm up or his eyes open. In the next hour, Fleamont welcomed death gratefully, meeting his wife at the beautiful white light.

"Everything he said was the truth."

Euphemia nodded, looking down at their son and wife, who didn't even know she was with child yet.

"It was."

* * *

"Harry? Are you okay? Answer me!"

Harry opened his eyes and smiled at Remus, who was covered in grime and had tears spilling over his eyes.

"Sirius was right. My grandparents are amazing," he said with his own tears running free.

* * *

(w.c 2,496)

WolfWinks-xx-


End file.
